Varney the Vampire eBook

“For my sake, Admiral Bell, I wish now to extract
one promise from you.”

“Say your say, my dear, and I’ll promise
you.”

“You will not then expose yourself to the danger
of any personal conflict with that most dreadful man,
whose powers of mischief we do not know, and therefore
cannot well meet or appreciate.”

“Whew! is that what you mean?”

“Yes; you will, I am sure, promise me so much.”

“Why, my dear, you see the case is this.
In affairs of fighting, the less ladies interfere
the better.”

“Nay, why so?”

“Because—­because, you see, a lady
has no reputation for courage to keep up. Indeed,
it’s rather the other way, for we dislike a bold
woman as much as we hold in contempt a cowardly man.”

“But if you grant to us females that in consequence
of our affections, we are not courageous, you must
likewise grant how much we are doomed to suffer from
the dangers of those whom we esteem.”

“You would be the last person in the world to
esteem a coward.”

“Certainly. But there is more true courage
often in not fighting than in entering into a contest.”

“You are right enough there, my dear.”

“Under ordinary circumstances, I should not
oppose your carrying out the dictates of your honour,
but now, let me entreat you not to meet this dreadful
man, if man he can be called, when you know not how
unfair the contest may be.”

“Unfair?”

“Yes. May he not have some means of preventing
you from injuring him, and of overcoming you, which
no mortal possesses?”

“He may.”

“Then the supposition of such a case ought to
be sufficient ground for at once inducing you to abandon
all idea of meeting with him.”

“My dear, I’ll consider of this matter.”

“Do so.”

“There is another thing, however, which now
you will permit me to ask of you as a favour.”

“It is granted ere it is spoken.”

“Very good. Now you must not be offended
with what I am going to say, because, however it may
touch that very proper pride which you, and such as
you, are always sure to possess, you are fortunately
at all times able to call sufficient judgment to your
aid to enable you to see what is really offensive
and what is not.”

“You alarm me by such a preface.”

“Do I? then here goes at once. Your brother
Henry, poor fellow, has enough to do, has he not,
to make all ends meet.”

A flush of excitement came over Flora’s cheek
as the old admiral thus bluntly broached a subject
of which she already knew the bitterness to such a
spirit as her brother’s.

“You are silent,” continued the old man;
“by that I guess I am not wrong in my I supposition;
indeed it is hardly a supposition at all, for Master
Charles told me as much, and no doubt he had it from
a correct quarter.”

“I cannot deny it, sir.”

“Then don’t. It ain’t worth
denying, my dear. Poverty is no crime, but, like
being born a Frenchman, it’s a d——­d
misfortune.”